


We All Must Plan Our Hopes Together

by EmAndFandems



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, Unicorns, Words are hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems
Summary: “Back in... Save...?” Aziraphale tries to work his way through this. It’s difficult. “But the ramif— rafi— farimica— the changes that could do?”“Right, exactly!” Crowley sits forward. “Could have ucinorns again!”(Another time getting drunk together and talking about time; another time it doesn't change things, until it does.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 120
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #2 NGK and Other Noises





	We All Must Plan Our Hopes Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SOSH discord's second GTA event, with a 500-word maximum. If you haven't already, I recommend reading through the other fics in the collection!  
> Title from Freddie Mercury's "Time."

It’s late. The blinds are drawn, the door is locked, and all customers have been ushered off the premises. Not a human soul remains inside the shop, which is not to say that it is empty.

“Listen,” says Crowley, stumbling over the word. He gives it another go. “Lisssten. Hear me out, yeah? I can do… the time thingy. You know, the— the thing where I. Uhhhh. Where I mess with, I sssstop time. Yes?”

Aziraphale leans back in his seat. There aren’t any more undrunk bottles nearby, but he reaches for one and the empty Romanée Conti ’45 finds itself pouring a refill all the same. “Mmm. Go on.”

“What if,” Crowley begins, staring off into the middle distance as he cradles his own glass in one hand and waves the other around, “if I could... go  _ back  _ in time. And. An’ save that unicorn.”

“Back in... Save...?” Aziraphale tries to work his way through this. It’s difficult. “But the ramif— rafi— farimica— the changes that could do?”

“Right, exactly!” Crowley sits forward. “Could have ucinorns again!”

Eloquence is entirely beyond their grasp now. Articulation is a challenge. Still, Aziraphale chases down one particular train of thought; he isn’t sure what to make of the result. “Wait,” he says, because monosyllabic words seem to be the extent of his vocabulary at this point.

Crowley makes a sound like  _ Mm? _ which Aziraphale takes as his cue.

“That’s what you’d change?” He can’t quite meet Crowley’s eyes. The alcohol content of his bloodstream lowers tremendously, and that helps, but he’s still pink-faced. “Of— of all the things in the world?”

Evidently Crowley is intent on remaining drunk. “Well, ’s a start.”

Aziraphale stands on a precipice. Softly, he asks, “What else?”

“It’s late,” says Crowley, standing suddenly, steady on his feet in a way that indicates an equally-sudden sobriety. “I should be getting back.”

“Oh. Well, let me see you out.” Aziraphale starts to rise from the chair.

“Think I can make my own way,” Crowley says tightly, and Aziraphale freezes.

“Right.”

But in the doorway, Crowley hesitates. He turns back. “I— Hhf. Angel, y’know I… Mmm. Gkh. S’just that— there’s… there’s a lot I wouldn’t mind doing differently.”

“In the past,” Aziraphale says. “If you could.”

“Course, the past.” Crowley’s holding back, and Aziraphale wishes he could work up the nerve to tell Crowley to release the unspoken.

Aziraphale doesn’t say anything, because he already knows.

Or— Aziraphale doesn’t  _ mean _ to say anything. His mouth makes a noise of its own volition which resembles the word  _ But, _ then repeats it more clearly. Crowley stares.

“We— You could— That is… The, erm, the future is… undetermined.” Heart quickening, breath short: pretend these words aren’t earth-shatteringly important. Say them. “Anything might… happen.”

He stands, awed by his own daring; he makes his way toward a dumbstruck Crowley; he sets a trembling hand against Crowley’s heaving chest. “Anything?” breathes Crowley, so Aziraphale kisses him for a wholly wordless reply. At last, a beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and lmk your thoughts <3


End file.
